


Words From a Silver Sharpie

by carroussella



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carroussella/pseuds/carroussella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was almost certain Andy would cry, but he found himself that more than that, she would smile too. Spoilers for 4x12 "Under Fire", and possible spoilers for 4x01 "Surprises", 4x09 "What I Lost", 4x10 "You Are Here" and 4x11 "Deception". Cross-posted to FFnet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words From a Silver Sharpie

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fan fiction in the longest time because of work and personal constraints… but I have been staying updated. And yes, I have one foot on the McCollins ship, although I haven't totally abandoned the McSwarek ship.

  
**Do not stand at my grave and weep,**   
**I am not there; I do not sleep.**   
**I am a thousand winds that blow,**   
**I am the diamond glints on snow,**   
**I am the sunlight on ripened grain,**   
**I am the gentle autumn rain.**   
**When you awaken in the morning's hush**   
**I am the swift uplifting rush**   
**Of quiet birds in circled flight.**   
**I am the soft stars that shine at night.**   
**Do not stand at my grave and cry,**   
**I am not there; I did not die.**   
_~ Mary Elizabeth Frye ~_

 

The silver Sharpie balanced precariously in his hand, hovering for a split moment on the pad of his thumb before he deftly caught it and held it tightly again.

Nick Collins stared at the marker, torn between wanting to uncap it and begin writing, yet not knowing exactly where to start.

_Do I come straight out and admit it?_

The locker room was abuzz with activity; off duty officers had been recalled back to the station to assist in the manhunt for Kevin Ford. There was a sort of terrified excitement in the air; cops, after all, lived for the action.

But there was an underlying tension that Nick felt; that foreboding sense of doom that lingered through the hallways. Chloe had already been shot. No one knew who would be next.

Gritting his teeth, he ripped the cover off the Sharpie. Taking a deep breath, he began to write.

_I wish I could say I knew the moment I first saw you, but the truth is, I didn't. I was blinded by the distractions surrounding me, and it wasn't until I held a gun to your head that it suddenly struck me._

He paused, re-reading the words that had formed on his vest. An old habit that his former unit used to practice, writing on their vests as a way to communicate their last words to family and loved ones and convey all they wanted to, in case they didn't make it home.

Every time they wrote in it, each soldier swore he would say the words personally if he came back alive. Yet in all his years serving, Nick didn't think he knew of one comrade who had done exactly that.

He definitely hadn't.

Throughout his years in the battle zone, he'd written countless messages to Gail, telling her that he loved her and was sorry for leaving her and he would have definitely married her if he came back alive. Each time, he wondered how she would react. Would she cry and sob and hold his vest close to her chest, desperate for some small measure of comfort he hoped it would bring her? Or would she, in that famous Peck anger, bring out a pair of scissors – or worse, a knife – and slash the Kevlar into pieces, hoping it was his heart she carved out?

But now… now, he thought of another woman and her reaction.

He was almost certain Andy would cry, but he found himself hoping that more than that, she would smile too.

_I'm not sure I can live without you – that was the thought that ran through my head as I pulled that trigger. We'd spent so much time together, as friends, as a pseudo-couple, and I'm not even sure when it began to cross the line into something more._

They'd started as friends, something that had never happened before with any of his previous relationships. He didn't think Andy had moved into lover territory with a friend before either.

He'd thought it would be awkward; that was one of the reasons why he'd held back telling Andy how exactly he felt. It wasn't just that blind loyalty and lingering guilt he felt towards Gail; it was terror that what if he and Andy didn't work out and they stopped being friends.

He didn't think he could handle that.

He'd come to depend on Andy a lot more than he cared to admit. It wasn't just dependence of a partner, watching each other's back on the job. It certainly started out that way; Andy was the only person he could trust while undercover and he knew she always had his back.

It was the other things that he'd come to depend on her. Being able to talk about his troubles at work and with Gail, knowing that Andy always withheld judgment while offering a glass of beer in sympathy. How she would almost always remember the details that he forgot, saving his ass in debrief more than once. Hell, he depended on her smile to get him through the day when it was particularly long or tedious or he just want to smash his fist into yet another drug addict's face.

_What I told you this morning is the truth. I don't know what we are, what this is, or where we're going. But I do know that I don't entirely hate it. I actually quite like it._

_No, scratch that. I love it. And I love you._

He wasn't sure when he realized that dependence. Was it the day they ended their undercover assignment, having had to stare death in the face? Or when he finally woke up to Gail's betrayal and discovered that there were so many other things in that relationship that he could no longer stand for, no longer accept?

If he wanted to admit it, it was probably the day Blackstone backhanded him with that rifle and he felt Andy's cool hands cradling his face, her anger at their superior radiating off her in waves.

Gail had been right when she said that for that one weekend, he had wanted to be with Andy more than he had wanted to be with her.

With Andy, he felt free. Free to lose himself in her smiles, in her infectious laughter, in her quirky habits, in her terrible singing. There was always a cloud hanging over him when he was with Gail, but his relationship with Andy was unencumbered and for the first time in a long time, he would even say he was happy.

_I guess what I really want to say is this. I love you, Andy McNally. It may be too soon for either of us to say the words and mean it fully, but it does mean something to me. You mean something to me._

_What we had was special, and I hope that when you think of me, long after I'm gone, you'll always remember me with a smile._


End file.
